


"We missed court."

by StripedScribe



Series: Febuwhump2021 [17]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Jessica Jones (TV)
Genre: Amputation, Blood, Blood and Injury, Field Surgery, Gen, Graphic Description, I Made Myself Cry, Injury, Pain, Pre-Slash Jess/Claire if you squint, Serious Injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:40:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29511237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StripedScribe/pseuds/StripedScribe
Summary: An accident, hours of pain. Of having to do the worst thing possible to Matt to get him out of there.'They could hear the screaming for miles. A keening wail of pain, soon muffled into nothing. Heads turned in the city, but they’d got used to ignoring these sounds, knowing it was the Devil at work. Knowing they’d be killing themselves as well to go out and interfere.'FebuWhump Day 17 [Field Surgery]Bad Things Happen Bingo [Amputation]
Relationships: Jessica Jones & Matt Murdock, Matt Murdock & Claire Temple, Matt Murdock & Franklin "Foggy" Nelson
Series: Febuwhump2021 [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2136723
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27





	"We missed court."

They could hear the screaming for miles. A keening wail of pain, soon muffled into nothing. Heads turned in the city, but they’d got used to ignoring these sounds, knowing it was the Devil at work. Knowing they’d be killing themselves as well to go out and interfere.

Across the city, Matt was having an awful night. It hadn’t started off this bad, it had started quiet, peaceful enough. Patrolling, listening to the rumours that ran the city, seeing what was worth tracking down. He had court in the morning, he’d promised Foggy to not come in injured, to have a clean face, no bruises, no hidden injuries. Honestly, he’d meant that promise.

But one thing had led to another, and now he regretted even putting the suit on. For all its protection, it wasn’t helping now.

Not when he’d messed up this badly. Not when even he was driven to screaming, forcing himself to muffle the sound, to not drag anyone here who’d live for the chance to kill him.

He needed help.

Foggy was going to kill him.

There was so much blood.

He couldn’t stop it. A mangled mess of bone and flesh and fabric and skin.

He couldn’t feel his hand. Couldn’t tell if it was still attached, couldn’t sense anything outside of this pulsing bubble of pain. Wanted it off, wanted it to be over, anything.

Tried to pull it out, each movement sending a new wave of pain into his mind, deafening him over and over again, screams tearing out of his gasping lungs.

He couldn’t. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t escape. Sobbing, he managed to find his phone, not knowing who he’d managed to call. There were only a few numbers in the burner, any would be a welcome visit now.

“Murdock? What do you want?” Jess. She could help. She was strong enough to pull him out of here, and strong enough to not care about how he was hurting.

“Help me.”

“Matt?”

“It hurts so much Jess, please.” He thought he managed to say the address, but he couldn’t remember hanging up. Unless she’d hung up on him. Hopefully she was on the way.

Hopefully.

He couldn’t feel his hand.

He couldn’t feel anything below his shoulder. His elbow gone, a floating mess, trapped. Tears tracking into blood, copper and salt filling the air, covering the smell of the factory. Abandoned, once used for drug production, any workers long gone. 

Can’t move, shouldn’t move, should just wait. But he was restless, anxiety building the longer he was trapped, the longer that stayed in there, if Jess wasn’t the next one here.

An abandoned factory, beams collapsed onto the machines, an obstacle course hiding information. Surely hiding something, to be left like this.

If someone else had heard his childish screams. Stick’s voice in his mind calling him a fool, for coming here, for screaming, for getting trapped. For needing someone else’s help. Hyperventilating through the pain, ragged breaths pulling on his bones.

He’d never trained him for something like this though. Even he would be trapped. Surely. Surely.

Just punished for getting himself into this position, but this pain was punishment enough.

“Red?”

He groaned, trying to push out words through the spiky fog of his mind. “Jess.” Hearing her steps get closer, faltering as they saw him and then speeding up.

“Holy shit Murdock, what the hell.” The warmth of a torch on his face, following down to his shoulder, where it disappeared into the guts of a machine.

“Tried to- to climb it, it moved.”

“Matt I, I don’t know what to do. That’s vicious, I don’t know. I don’t know if that’s savable.”

She’d only reinforced his sinking thoughts. “I know.” He couldn’t sense his arm, through the pain, through the metal teeth that were sinking into bone.

“I’m not cut out for this.”

“I’m sorry.” He tried to move again, the white hot pain wanting to force him to his knees, a scream forcing it’s way out. Some part of him had hoped she’d be able to see some way out of this, without the pain, and with sight.

“Stop moving Matt, please.” He could hear her panicked heartbeat, the thudding pace, adding to his nerves, giving him guilt. “You’ve lost so much blood, stay still, okay. Okay.”

“I need to ring Claire.” He must have blanked out, he couldn’t remember all of the conversation, just words in the shadows.

“It’s gone Claire, he said he doesn’t think it’s savable, and I can’t see any way of getting it out. It’s smashed to pieces.”

“I have a knife. Yeah. Yeah hopefully.”

“-I stop the bleeding?”

“-get Luke to burn the building.”

Her voice had changed, from worry to determination, given directions. Ignoring the worry, the anxiety, shoved into a box to be dealt with later. “You hear all that Matt?”

He didn’t have the strength for words, just weakly shaking his head.

“I’m sorry. We’re not leaving here with your arm, I need to get you to Claire’s. If you can pass out, I would now, this is going to hurt.”

And then they were both sobbing, him screaming into his gloved hand, biting down, longing for the darkness to take him. The slow blunt saw of a knife through injured skin and flesh, bone already broken by the machine.

As he was freed, he collapsed to the floor, unconsciousness claiming him, even as Jess rushed to stop the bleeding, another of her scarves ruined. Her belt into a makeshift tourniquet, hoping it would stop, that she hadn’t just killed him. Pulling him up, his body limp, over her shoulder, before running, jumping, flying to the clinic. In the mess of preparation, she knew Claire had called Luke. Hopefully he was on his way to destroy the building, hide Daredevil’s blood, flesh. Protect his identity.

It was a horrendous day. And it wasn’t getting any better, as she dropped him to one of the beds in the clinic, the awful sight of his right arm ending just below the shoulder, the scarf already soaked with blood. Pale, lifeless below the red of his suit, Claire already jumping to heal, to save him, whatever magic she could do with Jess’ field surgery.

For a second, she cursed Danny for being out of the country, knowing they could use his healing right now, that it probably couldn’t save his arm, but it could stop him from bleeding out in the middle of the night. In a clinic they all knew wasn’t ready to deal with something on this scale, that for anyone else it would mean a hospital, a team of doctors.

But all Matt had was them. Claire bustling around, Jess helping, even if it felt like she was just holding things, watching, monitoring. Watching as Claire hooked him up to monitors, to drips, sedating him, his face twisted in pain. Steadying a light as Claire replaced her tourniquet and then uncovered the wound, cleaning it, saline and blood mixing together into a bowl, onto the floor. Watching as she then stitched and stitched away, sealing vessels, muscle, skin. Mutters of trying to make it clean, trying to make it suitable for a prosthetic, neat and tidy.

The sawing of the bone was the worst, tidying up what had happened, covering it in crisp linen, covering Matt, keeping him warm. Cutting away the rest of his suit, trying to make him comfortable, a hospital gown under white sheets. Moving him from the bed now covered in his blood to a clean one, holding him as Claire shuffled monitors and poles with them. Absently, she remarked at least it was his right arm, she’d remembered him reading with his left before, holding his cane in his left, that he was left-handed. A finality to the torture, the repair, being pushed by Claire to go and clean up, wipe the blood from her hands.

Standing in front of the mirror, noticing more blood on her face, where she must have moved her hair out of the way. Up her arms, splashes on her clothes, for all she scrubbed it wouldn’t fade. She wanted to scream, to shout, but all she could do was cry, remembering his screams as she sawed at his arm. Sucking in a deep breath, wiping the tears and blood from her face, relaxing her hands from where her nails had carved crescents into her palm. “Keep it together.”

Walking back out, taking up a place next to Matt’s bed, so Claire could clean up as well. Restless, she couldn’t stay, moving to bundling up the blood stained linen, bagging it up, trying to clean the blood off the floor. Stopping as Claire’s hand came to rest on hers, pulling her to her feet, telling her to leave it.

* * *

“Jess, we need to call Foggy.” She’d been ignoring that responsibility, but it was hers to shoulder, to break the news. To call him in the middle of the night, a time they knew was only ever reserved for the worst things. To admit to herself, to him, that Matt was staring down death. “If he makes it through the night I’ll be happier, but I think Foggy needs to be here. Just in case.”

The room wobbled, as it had been doing for a while, Foggy’s name blinking on her phone, ready to call. She had to do this. Deal with Foggy, then she could break down. Go hide in Claire’s bathroom for a few minutes again, try not to break anything. “Fucking hell Murdock you’re going to make me have a breakdown.”

Sat next to Matt, a chair pulled alongside his bed, the screens of monitors showed him clinging to life, as still as he looked, he was alive. He was fighting, as he always did.

She hoped he would win again. Hoped that he could deal with whatever came after, the long recovery she knew was bound to follow, the changes. He had them, he had Foggy.

She pressed dial, trying to find the right words to say. He didn’t answer the first time, not at this time of night, landing her straight into voicemail. She rang again, the constant trilling beep in her ear.

“Nelson?” The room was threatening to swim, a haze of tears, watching Matt, watching Claire flutter around him, checking the bandages were still clean.

“Jess, it’s 5 in the morning. What’s happened?”

How did you even break news like this? How was she supposed to tell him what she was looking at? “Are you sat down?”

“It’s the middle of the night, I’m in bed. What’s happened, how bad is it? We’ve got court in the morning.”

“He won’t be making it to court.” She broke down, they didn’t deserve this. Matt didn’t deserve this, this stupid mistake. If it was someone else, could they have saved it? Claire stood in front of her, mouthing ‘want me to take over?’, she shook her head in response. She needed to do this, Claire needed to concentrate on Matt.

“Jess. Jess, what is it? Has he been arrested, has he been hurt?”

“He’s lost his arm, I’m sorry, I couldn’t, I couldn’t save it.We’re at the clinic now, Claire thinks he’ll make it but, but we’re not sure. I think, I think you need to be here. In case.” A blanket was draped over her shoulders, Claire rubbing a hand down her arm she hadn’t really noticed was shaking.

“Shit, okay, okay. Fuck, court. Okay. I’ll sort it, I’ll be there. Fuck, Matt.” The phone call ended, and she was left staring blankly at the wall, Claire trying to push a cup of coffee into her hands.

“Jess, you’re in shock, come on, you’re okay. Have a drink, you’re okay, he’s okay, he’s got the best chance here.”

“He’s an idiot.” She took a sip, trying to steady her hands. “A goddamned idiot, I don’t even know what he was expecting to find in there.”

* * *

He’d been drugged, he couldn’t concentrate on the room around him. His limbs felt so so heavy, pulling him down, sleep clawing at him. Where was he? What had happened? Snippets of pain, of screaming. Jess.

“Hey, Matt, you’re okay. Just rest, you’re fine.”

“I don’t-” A familiar voice. “Claire?”

“You’re in the clinic Matt, you got hurt.”

“Jess was there. Jess?” He couldn’t hear her. Couldn’t sense anything. Scratchy blankets, Claire’s hand on his arm, the pulse of something going into his blood. 

“She’s here, she’s okay.” A second hand touching him, unfamiliar gentleness.

“Hey idiot, I’m fine, just you injuring yourself this time.” There was something in her voice. Choked back tears. Sadness? What had happened?

He jolted as Claire’s hand moved, not noticing it travelling up to his face, running through his hair. The suit was gone, but he was safe. “Go back to sleep Matt, we’ve got you.” That was the last thing he wanted to do, he wanted to, needed to know what had happened. What had led to him being here. The memories slipped from him, like leaves on the wind, and sleep pulled him back down into its silence.

* * *

A rap on the door, and Foggy ran through, messy bed-hair, a bag slung over his shoulder. Claire instantly catching him, reassured words, before leading him to Matt’s bedside, Jess already holding her vigil, an empty chair next to her ready.

“Oh, Matt. Matt.” He sank into the chair, hand snaking to find Matt’s, careful of the IV. Brushing his hair back from his face, relaxed in sleep. “What happened?”

“You really want to know?” She had to ask, if he wanted to know all the horrors that had led them to this place. Nodding, he kept his face forward, lips pressed together, holding back the tears.

“It was an accident. He called me, said he was trapped. Managed to tell me where he was. I got there, and-” Her voice faltered, as her feet had done those many hours ago. “-and there was so much blood. His arm-” She took a deep breath, glancing back over to Foggy, the pain on his face, mirroring her own. “-His arm was stuck in this machine, these gears, there was blood everywhere. I didn’t know what to do, I couldn’t see any way out of there, and he said it was beyond saving.”

A shuddering breath, and she moved her chair closer to the bed, wanting to reassure herself, he was here, he was alive. “I had to call Claire, and- and. I had to Foggy, I’m sorry.”

“God Jessica. I - That must have been awful.” He wasn’t angry. He should be angry, surely? They were supposed to look out for each other. “Thank you for saving him.”

“He’s not out the woods yet.” Claire’s face was the seriousness of a nurse, schooled emotions hidden away, “He woke up for a bit earlier, out of the anaesthetic, but he was a bit loopy from it still, persuaded him to go back to sleep. I don’t know if he realises what happened.”

“Shit. I brought him clothes and that, but he’s not going to be leaving here for a while, right?” The bag on the floor heavy with what it signified, that the recovery for this was going to be long.

Shaking her head in response, Claire replied, “He’s going to need to heal, there could be complications, it wasn’t a clean wound.” Jess winced, and Foggy noticed Claire reaching over to reassure her.

“I know he hates it, but couldn’t Danny help?”

“Tried that.” Jess added, “He’s out of the country, we can’t contact him. He wouldn’t be able to fix this though, if that’s what you’re thinking. Heal him quick, but I doubt even he has it in him to undo something like that.”

Foggy’s heart broke a little more. Trying to think of the future, even past the thoughts shouting at him, threatening that Matt wouldn’t make it. “This will ruin him. How can he carry on being Daredevil down an arm?”

“We can’t go there yet. Look at Misty, look at the advances they’ve made in prosthetics, he’ll bounce back. He’s got to.”

He stayed, because of course he had to. Him, Jess and Claire taking it in turns to curl up on a spare bed and try and catch some sleep, one of them always there for the brief periods Matt woke up, dozy and confused, lulling him back to sleep.

* * *

Until he finally woke up properly, still sleepy from the morphine, but with a clearer mind, although still confused. The panic of remembering what had happened was enough to shake off that confusion, as he tried to map out his body, take stack of injuries. And realise his arm really was gone.

“Hey, hey Matt, calm down, calm down, you’re okay.” Foggy, right beside him, other heartbeats in the room. The room, not his apartment- the clinic, Claire’s. “Breathe Matt, with me, in. And out. That’s it. Concentrate on me, you’re okay.” A cannula scratching against his nose, the harsh cold of oxygen. An IV in his other arm, metal against skin against blood, pumping something in. The stickiness of monitors on his chest, under the gown. Bandages wrapped around his shoulder, around-around the stump of what was left.

It was real, it wasn’t just a fever dream.

He forced himself to focus on Foggy, to not lose the little concentration he had. To ignore the ever growing problem of the fact he didn’t have a right arm anymore.

They’d missed court. Were going to miss court. Whatever time it was.

He’d promised Foggy. “I’m sorry Fogs.”

“God Matt, do you have to immediately pile on the guilt?” Foggy’s voice was sharp, the anger of pain, immediately softening, “You’re alive, that’s all that matters. We thought we might lose you there. Don’t apologise, just focus on living for a little longer. You’ve been in and out of it for a while, I’ve had a lovely nap on one of these beds.”

“I didn’t mean for it to happen, we missed court.”

“I know, I know, it was an accident Matt.” Foggy’s hand brushed over his, “Jess told me, it. Just a research night, like you’d promised, it’s no ones fault this happened. It was an accident, okay? No feeling guilt over that, please. Court was fine, all sorted.”

“You went?” How long had it even been?

“I got it postponed. Said you’d been rushed into hospital, I’m your next of kin. They’d only push it til tomorrow, but I’ll leave you with Jess on babysitting duty.”

He wanted to argue, that he didn’t need a babysitter, but he didn’t even feel capable of pushing himself upright, too weak and woozy. “She’s here still? I can’t see.” Painkillers had always messed with him, but he was sure that would be better than the pain he’d be in without them.

“Yeah, she’s a few beds down from you. Not injured! Not injured, just having a sleep. She’s fine. Claire’s here too, but that’s it. The odd few others than needed the clinic headed home, you’re the only staying guest.”

“Has Claire said, how long?” He was already aching to be in his own bed, at home, but the things around him, the monitor, the cables, the tubes, suggested it wouldn’t be for a while. Claire would have undoubtedly spoken about how this should have been a hospital visit. And Jess. Having to do that. He owed her.

“She wants you to stay here for a few days at least. At least she’s got others that can help now, not just her trying to patch up all of New York’s night workers. And the ones that come here because they can’t afford anything else. I know you’ll hate it Matt, but she can’t leave it, and she can’t leave you. I’ll stay as much as I can, and Jess will, just while you heal up a little more. Make sure it doesn’t get infected.” A few days. He could manage that.

“Matt, that won’t be it. I can see it on your face. A few days until you can head home, but then you’re stuck with me, whilst that heals. She wants us to find a physio, we need more help than she can give. If you want a prosthetic, we can look into that, but that’s months away Matt. You’ve had something awful happen to you, you can’t just walk it off.” Foggy was crying, he could smell the tears, and a few had started to leak down his own face. He’d been denying it. Tried to convince himself it was going to be okay, that it was going to be a few weeks, he could go back to Daredevil. But that was over.

He needed a hug. “Can I, can you help me sit up?” Somewhere Foggy found a button, the top half of the bed tipping up. “Can you come here? Please?” He patted the edge of the bed, trying to shuffle himself over, grabbing onto Foggy as soon as he was on the bed.

“I know, I know Matt. It’s okay, we’ll get through this.” Full blown sobbing into Foggy’s shoulder, it was all too much. A one armed hug, clinging onto him like he was the only thing left in the world, like he’d die if he let go. “I got you Matty, okay?”

“I’m so scared.”

“I know, I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> *passes out tissues*


End file.
